“That’s the whole point,” said Frances, briskly. “You’ve been looking through the bills, haven’t you? In the bonus season, the problem for most of our clients is finding things that are expensive enough. And that look expensive as well, without being vulgar. But you know that. What I really wanted to talk to you about was Johnny. Did you see him at work in the kitchen?”

“That was where I ate.”

“On a first date?” said Frances.

“It wasn’t exactly a date.”

“Whatever,” said Frances. “But wasn’t it wonderful, watching him cook? I remember the first time he made supper for David and me—it was a revelation. It was like knowing someone and thinking they’re fairly normal, then discovering they can juggle or do magic tricks. He was so at home. Just the way he chopped vegetables or handled a piece of meat. I couldn’t see how he did it all so quickly and casually. Except it wasn’t casual. When I saw him cook, I thought he loved food more than he loved people.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Preparing a meal, tasting it . . . I think he misses that, being management rather than spending all his time in the kitchen, hands on, getting his fingers sticky.”

“I get your point,” I said. I was trying to think of a way to change the subject.

“David is one of the restaurant’s main backers,” she continued. “I’m afraid it’s all very incestuous.”

“Is that what David does for a living?”

“Sometimes. It’s hard to explain—I don’t think I really understand it myself. David is a rather mysterious man.” She gave a little frown, as if an unpleasant thought had occurred to her. I saw the way she plaited her hands together tightly, so her thick gold band cut into her wedding finger. “He buys things, changes them a bit and sells them again, usually for much more than he bought them. And he makes problems go away for people who’ve got into a financial mess.”

“What’s that called?”

Frances laughed. “I don’t really know. He earns a horrible amount of money from it, though. When you met him he was on his best behavior. I’m not sure I’d like to be in one of those companies while he’s doing the sort of things he does to them, cutting away the deadwood or the fat, whatever he calls it. Anyway, that’s what gives me the freedom to do things like this.”

“You make it sound like a hobby,” I said.

“From David’s point of view it is,” she said, a bit wistfully, I thought. “Not mine. But he keeps an eye on me, for what it’s worth. Matter of fact, I think he’s having lunch with Johnny today.”

“Why?”